


Vivat Rex

by Aivix



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 11:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 6,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9383825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aivix/pseuds/Aivix
Summary: When Dave was assassinated, John was crowned King.  (That wasn't part of the plan.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story built from a series of fills at comment_fic on LJ.

“You do realize you were born to rule?”

John rolled his eyes at Rodney. “My brother was born to rule, I was only the spare.”

“Which makes you born to rule in the event your brother died which, unfortunately, he did.” He peaked an eyebrow at John; he added, “He can't rule from the afterlife. I do believe exemplum was set for that a long time ago,” as he moved between two consoles.

“Hey, my great-great-great-great...”

“You really don't have to do that. We all know how many generations are between you and His Highness King Janus.”

“Is that what you're going to call me when they stick me on the throne?”

“No, I'm going to call you something much more maligned. It'll probably get gasps from the Court.”

Good. John's hated those sycophants since the minute his mother died and their true colors had come out, shoving daughters and sisters at a man two or three times the lady's age. Like his father had needed another wife; ultimately, with one son who was nearly assassinated at least twice a week and the other son doing acrobatics in the Lantean Air Corps that bordered on suicidal, his father had elected to focus on grooming them both for their futures.

Rodney snapped his fingers in front of John's face. “Are you tracking or should I call for Carson?”

“Only if he's got ale or will allow me a hit of something far more enjoyable.”

“And we circle back around to things that aren't licent for Kings to do.”

“And we circle back to 'I'm not King until the coronation' and also, 'I am not going to be a King like my father because I'm the fucking spare'.” John smirked at him, slouching back into one of the fluffed chairs Rodney favored in his laboratorium.

A book knocked him in the chest. “Call yourself the spare again and you sleep on the stratum tonight.”

“Aw, Rodney, the King can't sleep on the stratum.”

“Now you're the King?” Another expression of amused-annoyance.

“When it comes to not being able to cuddle with my living furnace at night, yes, I am.”

“Living furnace?” Rodney shook his head. “Nevermind, I'm not letting you get me off track. You, King, coronation, all of that. Because you were born to rule.”

“David was born to rule. Elizabeth was born to rule,” his half-sister, Amelius bless her, who had spent her life in learning, and he hoped she wouldn't mind the fact that she would become his Regent in Diplomatic Matters because Prince John of the Sheppard Line was not a man who was good at politicking, “I was born to plana volavit and protect our empire.”

“Yes, yes, Lord Commander, General of Dekka Fleet, blah-blah-blah. Do you honestly think you would have been permitted to remain in the militum forever?”

“Yep.”

Rodney singsonged, “Pipedream,” at him, and brought up a few more screens that he flicked through intently. “You would have been grounded and expected to marry and start breeding more royals. But that doesn't matter, because you are _King_ now. Whether you like it or not. Vivat Rex.”

_Vivat Rex_ , the phrase John would hear for the rest of his life, _Long live the King_.

He sighed. “Look, it's not about liking it or not.”

“Hm.”

“Rodney, I am militus, not regium. I learned quam ut fuge, not etiquette or tact or leadership. He knew all the parts of being King, not me, and just being in the militum doesn't mean I'm a natural commander.”

The scientist had stopped his frenetic pacing of the room while John had talked, clearly understanding what was being said better than John could say it, and after his mouth closed, Rodney told him, “You learned to command before. You'll learn to do it as King.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: [author's choice, author's choice, born to rule and a natural leader are the not the same thing](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/709015.html?thread=93753495#t93753495)
> 
> Filled 4.06.16


	2. Chapter 2

It was no shock that John was a Favored, the first since King Janus so many generations before. Atlantis all but purred under any attention he deigned give her, lighting up without hesitation in every corridor he walked and unlocking any door he wished. After all, this was the nature of their relationship from the day he was born.

The fact that Rodney, born to the Lesser Physicus of Milky Way, outshone their Prince as a Favored, however... that had nearly resulted in his being sent away for his safety and for the security of the throne. If not for Queen Sarah having interceded, he likely would have been sent back to his home galaxy due to the death threats had been levied against the toddler.

No one argued it or threatened him now: they'd seen every last moment of his devotion to their City and they loved it, praised it, reveled in it.

“She's pitching a fit.”

“Nice of you to notice.”

“What's her problemata this time?”

Rodney glared at the King between the ledges of the consoles. “I don't know, John, what could her problemata be? Shall we waste time discussing what you already know or shall I finish _fixing it_?”

Smartly, John didn't say anything further, knowing he was caught out by the one person in Atlantis that he couldn't bear to upset. For many reasons.

“I do not understand how you could possibly be so stulti to think that it was a good idea.” The glare increased. “Did you not think before you acted? Wait, no, do not reply—I already know the answer. Fatuus.”

“Sir?”

John sighed, seeing how Evan, the Imperator of his Royal Guard, smirked at the play between the King and the Greater Physicus of Pegasus—the Royal Guard would certainly have something to gossip about this evening.

“Go... patrol. Something.”

“Yes, your Highness.”

Rodney yelled, “Don't inflate his ego!” from the guts of the Rendering Unit.

“Forgive me for calling him by his title.”

“When he stops angering my City, he can be called by his title,” he growled back, “She's burned out the control crystal to ensure that he doesn't siphon power like that again. Do you not remember how long it takes to grow a new one?”

A spanner slid across the floor.

“You're sleeping on the stratum tonight.”

Evan hid a laugh under a cough, or he tried to at least, before hieing himself and the rest of the Guard into the corridor.

“Rodney...”

“Don't try that tone on me! She threw a fucking ingenium tantrum because of you and now she's going to be apologizing to me and you know what that means.”

Oh, John was well aware of the displays and gifts that would come over the next fortnight, though he prayed to Amelius that certain machinery stayed dormant this time. He truly was not up for another round with the Genere Mutatio.

Of course, there were some benefits to Atlantis' showering his Consort with apology tributes—John'd seen Rodney's happiest smile after she'd called the Flagisallus pods in close just so he could touch them, and he'd seen the slight tinge of a blush when Rodney had discovered the vicaria ventris keyed for only them—which sometimes benefited him as well.

He usually hadn't pissed off his City though.

“I don't supposed I could offer you apology coierit?”

Pliers snapped through the air, elongating the gesture of Rodney's arm. “What part of you're sleeping on the stratum tonight did you misunderstand, hm?”

John pouted.

“That doesn't work on me.”

A shower of sparks sprayed out from the console, lighting the room brightly before dying away. Rodney laid there through it, his praetexta somehow thankfully not catching alight despite the mess of fabric, and, spitting a curse at the wiring, resumed working.

(In their quarters, high in the central tower, lights flicked on to cast their balneum in a pale glow. The spigots turned to fill the alveum until it frothed with from the mixture of salt and soap, and steam began to rise from the vents. The linens in the cabinet began to warm; the balcony doors opened to let the fresh night air in.

John had dared to say, “I think she's trying to seduce you,” upon seeing it all.

And Rodney had just smiled beatifically at him, and replied, “She is.”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: [Stargate Atlantis, Atlantis, She loves Rodney more than John and goes out of her way to show it](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/710164.html?thread=93917460#t93917460)
> 
> Filled 4.11.16


	3. Chapter 3

Thick, warm blankets? Check.

Several chilled-to-perfection ales? Check.

A basket full of all the sweet pastries he could find? Check.

A willing participant who'd been flirting with him since the hormones started raging? Nope, no check on that.

“Sanctus stercore, this is the third matchmaking attempt this week!” Rodney was bitching, “This is getting ridiculous—most of this galaxy and most of Milky Way are already aware you're a scortum.”

“Hey! No insulting the Prince!”

“Please. You've slept with so many ladies that the Guards had to consult me on how to tabulate the numbers.”

Great. Just great.

“Rodney...”

“Anyway, who is it this time? Please tell me he's not pushing Lady Emmagan on you again.”

John managed to eek out, “It's no one,” as he flopped down on the blanket and sighed. “Well, not no one.”

“So it is Teyla. I don't understand how the King could think you two would be well-matched after last time. It's a good thing she's fond of you or I think Minister Halling would have had an aneurisma.” He plopped down beside John and blinked out over the water, stealing a hand into the basket. He plucked a bar of marzipan from the depths of it and then eyed John with a smirk.

It was the _John's got the hots for teacher_ look he'd worn throughout their schooling.

(Listen, hormones were a powerful thing and back then their magistri could have been a hundred-and-fifty years old and John likely _still_ would have gotten worked up. Rodney, however, refused to stop teasing him over it, twenty years on.)

He grumbled, “I don't want Teyla.”

“You set up the pier for a date under the stars with all the best sweets Pegasus can offer...”

“For you, culus!”

Rodney stopped, his mouth open and the marzipan suspended in the air between two fingers; slowly, he dropped the candy back into the waxed paper and took account of everything around him, then, achingly unsure, turned his gaze to John.

It felt a bit like he were a bug under glass.

“I thought I were only your non fila.”

John turned his eyes out toward the horizon. “You've always been more than that. I just... You are the Donum.”

 _Donum_ , the Gift, the one in every generation that was presented to the King or Queen in Pegasus as a sign of Milky Way's continued gratitude to the Sheppard Line: always the first child of a high-ranking family, almost always married off to some member of the Court in a political move. They had never been involved with a member of the royal family as any offspring could potentially not express the Royal Gene.

“I don't have the gene.”

“I don't care.”

“John.”

His voice was firm as he replied, “It's Dave's job to worry about the bloodline and trust me, they're working on it,” and then, “I'm the spare, Rodney.”

Rodney clasped their hands together; his palms were sweaty and he was trembling a little bit, but he was calm when he spoke, “I hate when you call yourself that.”

Stroking a thumb over Rodney's knuckles, John inched closer. “Right now, I'm happy to be the spare.” He dragged Rodney the final distance until he could wrap his free arm around Rodney, pull him in to kiss him soundly. “The spare can love whomever they please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: [Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, Rodney meets John at the appointed place, but when he sees the set-up for a romantic date he doesn't think it's for him](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712125.html?thread=94083261#t94083261) (Second Fill)
> 
> Filled 4.24.16


	4. Chapter 4

Of the planets in Pegasus, most had a year-round temperate climate—the reason that their people were able to survive in the early days of Janus' reign, when Moros still had a tight grip on Atlantis herself—but a few were more extreme. For instance, Aestas, where the tropical weather was broken only by the annual wet season, and Nix, where the land mass on the planet was blanketed in snow two-thirds of the year.

Then, there was Lapis, one of the few planets with a rotating mix of seasons.

It had been the private playground of the Kings and Queens for generations, and John, who had hated how lonely he'd been every time he'd come here, had opened it up for his extended family for use. The corridors now often were filled with laughter as Madison, Bradley, Ava, Matthew, and Kenna raced each other from bedrooms to playrooms; the kitchen was active with Jeannie and Radek playing chef while Elizabeth and Kaleb argued the finer points of language and diplomacy in the living room.

This was how family vacations were supposed to be, not the stodgy ones with formal dinners and state guests, but loud and active.

Of course, Rodney probably would have preferred the kind with sleeping in as well, but then, he was entirely too used to John's early rising schedule, though he still hated when he was prodded awake before the sun was even up.

This was why he was glaring at his husband when John nudged him awake, murmuring, “Morning,” as if Rodney hadn't been enjoying a pleasurable dream seconds before.

A glance at the clock, then, “Too early.”

“Too early? I've already had my run and showered and made you coffea.”

“Good. Make it again after the sun rises.”

“But Rodney...” he whined.

Rodney grumbled, “If your people could hear you now,” and groaned as he sat up enough to take the mug being thrust at him. He drank down half before realizing that John was vibrating beside him, practically bouncing on the bed like a small child. “What?”

“Ninxit.”

“And?”

“And I thought we could go, I don't know, have a snowball fight or something.”

One of Rodney's eyebrows went up. “You thought that I, he who does not like nature as you so often like to say, would want to voluntarily go out in the freezing cold to be pelted with packed balls of frozen precipitation?” He gestured toward the door. “Go wake up the kids. I'm going back to sleep.”

“Spoilsport.”

“I won't be the one shivering later,” Rodney retorted, “Watch out for Madison. She still plays by Milky Way rules.”

“Meaning?”

“You'll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: [any, any m/m, first snowstorm of the season.](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/714439.html?thread=94361287#t94361287)
> 
> Filled 4.27.16


	5. Chapter 5

The jolt of the crash had sent Rodney forward, his head colliding with the console and causing him to black out for several minutes.

John was pitifully grateful for that: his reflexes had had him bracing for the impact well before it, managing to keep upright until the Conlectus Desultor had slowed, almost seeming to bob toward the surface for a moment.

But now, they were sinking too quickly for his tastes.

Stercore.

He started the emergency beacon—all he could do for the moment—before turning to Rodney and prodded, “Hey. Rodney, wake up. Come on, amator.”

There was a groan, then Rodney demanded, “Quae est infernum, est?”

“We crashed.”

At that, Rodney looked up, seeing the glitter of sunlight through water, and he recoiled back. “We're sinking.”

John nodded, calmly saying, “We are. I'd try to get the pods restarted but we hit so hard, I'd be surprised if either is even attached anymore,” and then, “The beacon's transmitting. It's all we can do.”

Rodney swallowed and agreed, before eyeing the glass again. “How far down are we?”

“Far enough that swimming's not an option.”

“Nos totus fututam.”

“A little bit, yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: [Any, Any, Deep Ocean](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/719160.html?thread=94982200#t94982200)
> 
> Filled 5.16.16


	6. Chapter 6

The water had started coming through the moment they hit bottom, microfissures compromising the hull integrity and making their situation even worse.

“You're sure the emergency beacon was broadcasting?”

John nodded, reassuring Rodney for the sixth time in an hour, that, “Yes, I'm sure,” as patiently and calmly as he could. His husband was panicking, of course, and John knew it, had gathered all his training and all his experiences in order to keep himself from doing the same.

Rodney rubbed at his eyes, shifting the long bit of the praetexta, and took another long look around the ship.

Likely he was once again trying to figure out how to convince John that the drive pods could be activated from the rear of the desultor. Which John would have been all for Rodney working on expect he knew— _knew_ —that the pods had been damaged or totally lost during the crash: they just were not meant for that kind of abuse, hence why they were to be retracted before entering water and _then_ deployed.

He sighed, not for the first time, and adjusted himself on the bench, lifting his feet up for a moment to free them from the shin-deep water.

“Maybe if I...”

“Rodney,” John started.

But he was interrupted; Rodney telling him, “We've done iudiciis. We know that the pods can be activated if I trip the emergency circuit to divert piloting to the rear compartment,” as he stood and began to pace as best he could within the confines of the compartment.

“And again I say: we're on the bottom. The pods were never meant to engage lift off from under this much ocean, which was why we have desultor specifically for deep water.” John grabbed Rodney's wrist, stilling his movement, and reminded him, “Even if they don't have a locus for us, we're King and Consort: Evan's probably already got the Corona Militum and Dekka fleet looking for us.”

Rodney didn't look convinced, but he sat down anyway before shifting to press into John's side. “Ego novi naues aedificarent. Ones that can stand up to being smashed into the ocean.”

With a comforting snort, John stroked a hand along Rodney's cheek; he pulled his husband closer and replied, “Good. It'll give me something new to test pilot.”

“And have you piss off my City again? Do you not remember what happens when she thinks you might die? I am not living on rolling brown outs while she regrows crystals. Again.”

“To be fair, she's a bit dramaticus.”

“Oh, like you're any better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: [Stargate Atlantis, any, royalty AU.](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/721336.html?thread=95203768#t95203768)
> 
> Filled 6.01.16


	7. Chapter 7

There were days John really, truly, wholeheartedly loathed how much Atlantis loved his Consort.

“This isn't ridiculam!”

Rodney laughed harder, and John looked to Evan for help. Evan, however, was a man with a fair amount of intelligence: he feigned an innocent look before stepping backward and into the doorway where he did a neat about-face.

Damned Lornes and their damned stoic... stoic-ness.

“Oh, my...” Rodney gasped then, “Oh...” and went right back to laughing; the wide end of his praetexta swished over John's shoe and he stomped it hard enough to lurch Rodney off-balance, sending him—still laughing exuberantly—to the floor.

“Risum prohibere!”

“I can't! Oh, oh... fortuna.” He wiped the wetness from his eyes and smirked up at John from the floor, making a piss-poor effort at holding in yet more laughter, then slowly made his way back to standing, not expecting (or receiving) help from his King.

A King who grumbled, “Make her change me back.”

Rodney, smartly, choked off the laugh, then replied, “I can't. No one outside of the user is meant to activate the machina. So if it's not responding to you, then you're going to have to wait out her temper.”

“Wait out her temper? Rodney, she held a grudge against my father for ten years!”

He shrugged.

And John, crossing his arms over his breasts(!), tried to remember what his mother had taught him about apologizing to women.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: [Any (except Supernatural), any/any, Well, this was no fun at all](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/707902.html?thread=93628734#t93628734)
> 
> Filled 6.12.16


	8. Chapter 8

Hearing the lockdown dentia had made Rodney freeze in place, his mind racing: was it a pathogen? An attack? Had someone gone after John as they'd gone after David?

He'd called out to Imperium, expecting something more than a stilted, “The Royal Guard are on their way to you,” before being blocked out, and he growled at the air, “John.”

The speakers in his lab crackled. “ _Rodney, stay where you are._ ”

“What's going on?”

“ _Our nightmare's come home to roost._ ”

“Oh, no.”

“ _Evan and his men are rounding up Jeannie and Elizabeth and the kids and they're coming for you as well. I'm going to have you transported off-world for the moment._ ”

Rodney's heart seized in his chest. “Off-world? John, I built half our current weapons arsenal from scratch. I'm of more use to you here,” he pointed out—he wasn't boasting, he really had designed most of Atlantis' modern equipment—and prepared to argue the point.

But John told him, “ _Rodney, I am currently at altitude 330 with a squadron of their fighters behind me and I can't focus on taking them down if I'm worrying about my familia stupri. Once we've secured Atlantis, I'll call you home._ ”

“I don't like this.”

“ _I don't either, but illud est quod est_ ,” he said, his voice broken by the noise Rodney now realized was weapons fire. God, to achieve the level of noise where he could hear it through the line meant the fighting had to be ferocious.

Damno ad infernum.

“Before I go, I'm going to have Evan take me down to the Cathedra. I need to input some modifications in case you need to activate it.”

“ _Understood. Be safe, amator._ ”

“Be safer than safe, John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: [Any, any/any, Keep Away [Hit the floor]](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/701531.html?thread=92628827#t96151131)
> 
> Filled 6.19.16


	9. Chapter 9

In all his life, John had never expected that he'd ever wear the crown: he was the second-born, the spare, the one expected to lead the militum. The throne was David's and he'd been the one groomed for it while John had run roughshod over all the rules and order the magistri tried to teach him, dragging Rodney along.

But here he was.

The coronation would begin in a few hours and that crown would fall to him.

“John?”

“You should be sleeping.”

Honestly, he should have been given how late the festivities of the nuptias had run; Rodney had spent half the day before the ceremony too anxious to eat and had practically collapsed once they were permitted to leave the reception. Thank Amelius that the Ritu Lectisternia was no longer permitted.

“So should you.”

He shrugged by way of an answer, eyes returning to the glint of the crown. “Janus wore that crown.”

Rodney knew that already, was pretty sure every subject within the reach of the Imperium knew it. It wasn't like they kept the history of it secret or anything.

“So has every King or Queen since.” John sucked in a breath and reached for Rodney's hand, drawing his Consort close, as he murmured, “Thousands of years of history...”

“That is the nature of a crown.”

John barely got out the next words: “And it'll be the same for my children.”

There it was, the thing that was giving John apoplexia.

Children. After all, the King was expected to continue the bloodline of the Sheppards, the only remaining direct descendants of His Highness the King Janus and his Consort and Queen Elizabeth I. To not have children, or at least, to not try to have children, would lead to trouble within the monarchy despite John having nieces and nephews that could easily be named heir.

And neither one of them had ever been big on the idea of being a father, raising kids, all of that. They were happy as they were with John plana volavit and Rodney in the laboratorium, tormenting David with their relationship that wasn't “proprium”.

Rodney, however, had realized within minutes of David's assassination that none of that would remain. Atlantis and the Imperium had expectations, requirements, all manner of things that they would look to John for, and that included offspring.

He looked to the Crown, then to John, and he kissed him, the kind of kiss that only those who've loved each other all their lives knew, and told John, “Yes, it will,” with surety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: [Any, any, the significance of (a specific piece of) jewelry.](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/685398.html?thread=90143830#t90143830)
> 
> Filled 7.27.16


	10. Chapter 10

Elizabeth was not the first, only the last and the straw that broke Moros' back: first was John, who made Melia drag her brother off to plead, “You cannot interfere.”

And Janus, so earnest, asked, “Why?”

“You cannot save everyone.”

“Ah, so the Council admits that they have lost faith in my work.”

She sighed, “I did not say that,” and then, “We must evacuate. There is simply no possibility of our winning this war.”

“Yes, there is. Look at him, Melia!”

“Colonel Sheppard is here because we chose to leave, to take ourselves back to our First Home and live with our kin.”

Janus smiled at her gently, his eyes clouded, and cupped her cheek. “I will try to be restrained, but I cannot condone our running and hiding. This is our home, Atlantis is our home. I will not lose her,” he told her.

Then, he stroked her cheek with his thumb, turned and left, and Melia could feel the distance between them grow.

She watched them in the days that followed though, watched how Janus protected Sheppard and taught him; how Janus would catch her out of the corner of an eye and give her the same broken look she'd seen all too much through their lives.

Strong and yet... he was more brittle than any of them had realized.

“Okay, so the universe is just a bunch of layers all sitting together like a book, and every choice we make shifts the pages?”

The analogy made Janus brighten and she wrapped her fingers around her necklace, worrying the stone that hung there. Were that their mother had lived longer, were that her death not sent Janus into a place where time was something to be studied... She stifled the sigh: it wouldn't do either of them well to wish for their lives to have been different.

An answer about time and space and dimension had her quietly moving away, lest she hear anything that would need reporting; her feet dragged some as she made her way to the near balcony, needing fresh air and some time to think.

“You've been watching Janus?”

Melia startled, but relaxed once she caught sight of their father. The old man had settled onto one of the benches, looking out at the rush of the water.

“Yes.”

“Good. What is he doing?”

This time she didn't cut off her sigh, and reminded Moros, “I am not his keeper,” as she sat beside him.

“I could appoint you as his keeper.”

“You could try, but we both know that he would only run from us more. It is only be design that we know of his experiments. Imagine if he were truly to hide them from us.”

Moros snorted. “I have.”

“You know he will send Colonel Sheppard back to his time.”

“Yes.” He could admit to that much without injuring his pride. “I would expect no less from him.”

“It does not solve the problem of controlling Janus,” which honestly, Melia did not think feasible—he was wily, he was stubborn, and most of all, he was brilliant beyond measure.

Janus was their Chief Scientist for a reason.

“It is not controlling him that I need, it is taming.”

(John went home, but Elizabeth soon arrived, capturing Janus' attention in ways that made Melia nervous and for good reason.

As it turned out, to tame Janus only made him more dangerous.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: [Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard + Any, another Janus time-travel device transports them back to the time when the Ancients are preparing to sink the city.](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/753219.html?thread=99288899#t99288899)
> 
> Filled 9.26.16


	11. Chapter 11

The Cathedra was glowing when Rodney arrived with the Guard, humming as Atlantis prepared for John to take his place there.

“He will resist for entirely too long,” he murmured to her, feeling the response as she answered with bemusement—oh, she knew her King would remain with the fleet longer than was best—and he stepped to the console.

The computations and changes weren't complicated, and Rodney called out to Evan, saying, “This shouldn't take long.”

“Minus temporis melior.”

“Yes, yes. I'll do my best.”

(Evan kept his voice low as he whispered, “You always do, Donum,” before turning back to his men and to Elizabeth, who'd said behind after seeing Jeannie and Kaleb take her husband and the children through to Lapis. “We should get you through the Astria Porta, ma'am.”

“I appreciate your concern, Imperator, but you and I both know that I won't leave without Rodney.”

“The King did pass down orders.”

“And when this is over, you can tell him you told me of those orders and I refused,” she replied.)

Rodney worked quickly, his hands and fingers moving quickly over the console, but explosions began to rock the city long before his task was complete.

“Sir!”

“One more momentum!”

The sound of wrenching metal reverberated through Atlantis, the dentia shifting from lockdown to emergency, and Rodney looked up in time to see a piece of debris fall from above. He stood there, frozen, watching as it approached him.

The thrust of Evan's body shoving him forward, them both forward, broke the spell and Rodney's wide eyes turned toward the other man. “What was that? This room is reinforced! It's the safest in Atlantis!”

“I don't know, but that's the end of your time, sir. Abeamus!” Evan answered, the last order leaving no room for argument.

Rodney didn't argue, for the first time in his life Evan suspected: he did as directed, racing along the corridors with the Guard surrounding him and Elizabeth both.

Then they turned the corner to Cenaculum Magnum and Evan stopped short.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: [Any, Any, Hell is Round the Corner](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/742558.html?thread=98168734#t98168734)
> 
> Filled 9.28.16


	12. Chapter 12

The invasion had been quickly executed, the Aemulae filling Atlantis' walls before the evacuation was half complete, yet John had taken some solace in the idea that his family had been safely spirited to Lapis where the Royal Guard would keep them safe. It would take more time than Rodney had patience to remove the forces and Rodney would likely be furious with the state of Atlantis when he returned, but at least John could apologize to her later for the damage he would inflict upon her.

“Incursus protocol,” John commanded, his fighter alongside the soloturae _Caldwell_.

Steven answered, “Yes, sir,” with a hint of anger in his voice and John wondered for a spare second if he'd finally gotten the man's respect.

He turned away, his men following and reminded them, “They have been given mercy and shown kindness. In return, they've attacked us and killed our people,” he stared at his HUD, Atlantis shining with her own rage below, “and now they've seen fit to invade our city. Let us remind them who we are.”

A chorus of agreement came through, the entirety of the fleet calling out, and amid it all, as John set himself to dive toward the water, toward the stella coegi, Atlantis herself told him, _Still here_.

John didn't understand and she repeated, _Still here_.

The cephenes launched, the stella coegi damaged and preventing Atlantis from taking off, John said, Of course you're still here.

An image of Rodney, of Elizabeth, of Evan, flashed on the HUD.

And John's heart seized in his chest.

_Are they safe?_

A darkened corridor came to John's mind, the one leading to King Janus' private laboratorium.

It was a hiding spot that could not last forever—the damned Aemulae held themselves together with resonance, they would easily find the entrance—and John felt his blood run cold: they could come for him, they could attack him and his home all they wanted, but they could not and would not get Rodney.

And John, steady and contained, ordered, “We give them no quarter,” as his fighter burst from the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: [Any, any, what's done in the dark.](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/756015.html?thread=99605807#t99605807)
> 
> Filled 10.02.16


	13. Chapter 13

The word spread through Atlantis, a low thrum of anger spiking her colors from the blues and greens of peace to the reds and oranges of battle; the militum seethed, held back only by the Reginella's order, one delivered dutifully by the Imperator.

In honesty, however, Evan would rather have gone down the carcerem than stand down their soldiers, would rather have seen the traitor executed for her betrayal and done it himself.

But he couldn't and he wouldn't.

No, the right to see her death belonged to their King and their Donem and he would not allow anyone to trample on that right. Not even himself.

* * *

_“Carson!”_  
_“Rodney... Stercore! What happened?”_  
_“There was a woman!”_  
_“You, get my discipulus! Rodney, what did this woman do?”_  
_“I... I don't know!”_

* * *

John stepped through the Astria Porta to find his sister waiting.

“What's happened?”

Her chin lifted a bit and Elizabeth told him, “It's Amelia.”

* * *

  
**Formal Missive to Ioannes Rex:**  
  


* * *

The carcerem was quiet when he arrived, though John hadn't expected otherwise. After all, she'd always been that way—soft-spoken, kept to herself, a loner—even when they were small, toddling around the grounds of his uncle's home on Proculus.

(He pushed those memories down and closed off his heart: he couldn't afford to be emotional nor to show her weakness.)

“Chaya.”

“John.”

“Given present and future circumstances, you will address me as Ioannes Rex.”

She cocked her head to the side, serene in a terrible way. “As you demand, Ioannes Rex.”

“Why?”

No reply.

“Sed damnare, Chaya, _why_? I can understand if you had come for me, I could even have come to understand if you'd gone after Rodney, but Amelia?”

Her gaze, dull and gone as if she were already dead, caught his at last, but a flash of something bright lit them for only a second and John felt ice in his veins, a sudden horrifying truth slotting into place.

“You sold your soul.”

“I freed it,” she retorted, “Hallowed be the Ori.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: [Any, Any, their child has a close call (accident/illness/etc)](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/785989.html?thread=101709381#t101709381)
> 
> Filled 1.17.17


	14. Chapter 14

John didn't sleep that night.

He couldn't.

(“Take them home,” Carson had murmured to John once he'd returned from the carcerem, “Atlantis will let me know if any of her vitals so much as blips.”

“Certus es?”

“I am. I've given her antidotum and all she's going to want to do for the next few days is sleep, it would be better in her own home.”

John nodded, relieved a little though still scared for his daughter. “The fluids...?”

“Ah, that line stays in place until I personally see her able to take in liquids and keep it down.”

“I'll make sure that Rodney knows.”

“Please. I'll not have him teaching her his own poor habits.” Carson gave his King a warm smile, reaching out to squeeze John's shoulder gently, then added, “Take my darling girl home.”)

Understandable, he felt, given how the day had been: he'd woken on Avalon, expecting to spend the day meeting with Praetor O'Neill and the Consilia, but that had all gone to hell when Rodney's request for him to come home arrived. He'd seen flashes of red when he arrived in the Valetudinarium to find his infant daughter seizing, shivering, and Rodney teetering between frantic and hysterical.

It'd taken every ounce of his control not to go straight to Chaya when Evan had come and told him outright the name of the traitor, the one who'd tried and failed to assassinate the Corona Regia.

“I didn't even recognize her.”

John's eyes snapped left, catching Rodney's; between them, Amelia lay on her back, asleep and peaceful. Her skin was flushed from the medicinae circulating through her body, but it would abate in time as it bound the poison into an inert formulation.

“I swear, John. I just saw a woman lean close to her and then she was...”

“Shh, it's all right.” John reached across to grab his husband's hand and thread their fingers together. “You weren't meant to recognize her and even if you had, why would you have doubted a member of our family getting close to her?”

“Even worse, I let a stranger near her.”

“Her people. You were letting her people close,” he reminded, so many conversations in the months of her gestation flooding back that now John regretted—they'd ignored so much of convention in their lives, why had they stuck with that one? “I think they'll understand if we are less hands-on with her in the future.”

“I still...”

John sighed, leaned up on one hand and slung a leg across the expanse. He was skillful in keeping his weight well off of Amelia, but he took his other hand back as he leaned close to Rodney and kissed him warmly. “She's home and she's safe and if Evan has his way, she will not leave the Conclave Regium until Radek perfects the old shield device Elizabeth removed from the museum.”

Rodney nodded shakily and John rolled back to his place on Amelia's other side, laying a hand on her chest. For a few moments, they were all quiet, the two men taking in the reality of how close they'd come to losing the little girl they adored more than they'd ever expected.

Then, in a soft voice and without looking away from her face, Rodney said, “I think for a little while, I want her to sleep in here. With us. Her praesepe will fit by the window.”

“No,” John answered, “dormivit lecto.”

He'd dig his out of his mother's effects if he had to, though he knew Elizabeth had used one with her children and doubted that she'd object if he asked to borrow it.

(Actually, that is almost exactly what would happen the following morning: John would ask to use Elizabeth's and she would promise to lend it to him. Only, she'd tell Laura who'd tell Evan who'd tell Carson who, the busybody he could be, sent word to Caldwell to take a letter to Lady Emmagan...

Elizabeth would tell him, “She deserves better than her cousins' cast offs.”)

“My side of the bed, then. Please.”

“Of course.”

Rodney let out a breath, and finally relaxed against the bedlinens.

John kept watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: [any, any, Cuddling in bed after a day full of despair.](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/785989.html?thread=101714501#t101714501)
> 
> Filled 1.17.17


End file.
